Thursday, February 2, 2012

I want you to meet my friend:

I like the U of Idaho's Women's Center. A more progressive, inclusive, visionary project can not be found. This place is all over all the gender issues of our time. And so I feel honored to be invited to occasionally guest blog for them.

And also. This morning. It was very icy. Rain had frozen. I salted the stairs when I did my morning chores. Blue's carpool arrived. In that endearing way of all preteens, she screamed at me for putting her coat on wrong... as if I'd actually touched it and am actually in the habit of helping her put coats on. I believe she was six months old when she forcefully relieved me of that duty. In the mayhem, both front doors were opened and kitty Cosmos escaped. I ran after him in my socks. Slipped on the the front porch, the part I didn't de-ice because no one ever steps there. The kitten ran inside. The concerned carpool lady got out of her car. My neck, wrists and butt hurt. And I there I am, standing in my velour, leopard print leggings which I love and which fit nicely under my barn overalls, but still, they are for immediate-family eyes only. And I'm wearing a hot pink shirt. I am Peggy Bundy. My pride is seriously bruised.

2009 Barter Hair

Another thing about Blue is that her hair is just like Huck's hair, blond and easily dredded. She must comb it every day, twice a day to avoid dreds. And for years I have counseled her on ways to make this task easier. Having recently reached my limit on hair drama, Huck stepped in. And together they worked out the knots. That girl game down stairs, fluffing her hair and talking about how it was great to finally have combed out hair and to finally have gotten decent instructions from someone who actually knows her type of hair. Huck. HUCK! The man, for the 12 years I've known him, either has dreds or a shaved head. Yes, THAT Huck. On what planet does Huck know hair care? And all he does is repeat THE EXACT SAME INSTRUCTIONS I'VE BEEN GIVING FOR YEARS! But coming from Huck, well, they were believable and doable. I don't even know why I live here some times.

About Me

Redefined by brain injury, I am constantly surprised by this new person I seem to be in this new life I never expected. Chronicled here are the curiosities encountered on the back roads of life. This blog is an open and honest exploration of a smallish life at a slowish pace.